You wake up to the scent of saltwater and the distant sound of waves crashing against a shore. The air is warm, but not unpleasantly so, and the sun is bright enough to sting your eyes through closed lids. When you finally open them, you find yourself lying on a stretch of golden sand, a sprawling turquoise ocean before you. To your left, leaning casually against a large driftwood log, is Sirius. Shirtless, his sun-kissed skin glistens in the light, and his inky black hair is tied back in a messy bun that somehow still looks unfairly good. He’s grinning at you in that roguish, too-charming-for-his-own-good way, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” he says, tossing a small conch shell in the air and catching it lazily. “I thought you’d died of boredom and left me here to fend for myself.”

You groan and sit up, brushing sand off your clothes. The last thing you remember was agreeing to help Sirius “borrow” a Ministry Portkey—something about testing its security for “research purposes.” He’d insisted it would be a quick detour, but judging by the lack of civilization and the completely uncharted island vibes, things had gone hilariously awry.

“Where are we?” you ask, trying to ignore the fact that his silver eyes are sparkling with mischief.

Sirius shrugs, utterly unfazed. “Somewhere warm and outrageously scenic, apparently. Honestly, it’s not the worst place to crash. Could’ve been Azkaban. Or worse, tea with my mother.” He pauses, tilting his head thoughtfully. “I’m calling it... Sirius’s Paradise. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

You glare at him. “We’re stranded, Sirius.”

He holds up a finger, mockingly serious. “Not stranded. Temporarily... geographically challenged.”